


The Caged Bird Sings

by markofthemoros



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Gen, Imprisonment, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:31:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9569630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markofthemoros/pseuds/markofthemoros
Summary: SPOILERS COMING! Contains spoilers for the game starting Chapter 9. / As a royal bait tucked away into the cells of Gralea, Prompto rots away at Ardyn's mercy. As days go by and his mind grows darker, he can't help but question if his friends are going to come at all. After all, he isn't sure they should. My version of Prompto's time as Ardyn's prisoner. One-shot. Also posted on my Fanfiction.net account.





	

**Author's Note:**

> (F)AN: Oh. My. God! I may be just a liiiittle too overjoyed over FF XV. I'm gonna discuss it a little here, so if you haven't finished it, spoiler warning, I suppose? Actually, what are you doing here anyway if you haven't finished? It says "spoilers" in the abstract?! Anyway, back to it. Seriously, I love it. It's as close to perfection I have ever seen, it exceeded my expectations so much. And honest to god surprised me. Mainly in that that I learned to love Prompto, hahah. He seemed like such a comic relief at first, but as the game progresses, and especially if you've seen the Brotherhood background, there's just so much more to him than his jokes and the camera.  
> And his capture was one of the most memorable moments of the game. A heart-ache. And such a well for angsty fanfiction. Quite a few of these versions are out already. Here's my look onto Prompto's imprisonment. It's heavy on the feels side. I hope you like it!
> 
>  
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr](https://markofthemoros.tumblr.com) Comoon! Chat me Prompto whump! Or any whump, I don't judge.

**The Caged Bird Sings**

The clang of slow-paced steps echoed hollowly in the concrete walls. Prompto could hear him long before he could see him. The sound carried far in this rathole, after all.

He tried to wriggle around to ease the pressure on his shoulders, and the ache jolted his core again. Dammit! He must have fractured his rib in the fall. Hissing in pain he settled for leaning more onto one arm, allowing a little rest for the other. It was by no means painless but it was better.

The steps turned the corner, and Prompto felt his upper back tense. The casual sway of fabric and unruly hair gave Ardyn a carefree air as he strode closer, even daring to swing his arms a little as if he was actually enjoying himself.

"Prompto Argentum of His Highness' Crownsguard! This is my pleasure," Ardyn hollered as he tilted his hat in a mockery of a greeting. The blond man, cruelly spread-eagled into a titanium frame, dared a snarl.

"You…! What the hell did you do?!"

Ardyn wasn't phased in the slightest by the resiliance in the sky eyes. "How are you enjoying yourself, I wonder. Must be feeling right at home," he teased, ignoring the demand.

"Tch!" Prompto felt like he'd been punched into the stomach. The hint hadn't escaped him. Truly, Prompto was so much more clever than the others gave him credit for. Biting his teeth, he averted his eyes and refused to look at his captor. The look of victory on Ardyn's face had been just barely on the other side of bearable.

"Let me go!"

"No, I don't think I will. Not yet at least. There is a little something I need you to do for me."

"What's that supposed to mean, huh? What's the big idea?"

"All in good time, my dear boy. We wouldn't like to ruin the surprise, now would we?" Ardyn chuckled, and Prompto found the way he was looking at him less to his liking. It was somehow esurient. He struggled.

"I swear, when Noct gets here–!" A blazing blue eye turned to glare at the immortal.

"Aaah, yes! The prince. I shall be looking forward to it."

Suddenly Prompto felt cold. He understood that things were going Ardyn's way to the point. The gunslinger's insides twisted, air caught into his lungs, only to be released in a breathy gasp. Both blue eyes snapped to glare in shock.

"What do you suppose is going through his mind right now, I wonder. Self-blame? Eloquent plans of a refined revenge? A desperate urge to rescue his friend?"

'This guy needs to shut up,' Prompto thought. He hadn't liked the emphasis the asshole had put on the last word. To be honest, he was a bit scared of where this was going.

"Whatever you're planning, it's not gonna happen!" The blond understood what Ardyn was doing to him. Guilt-tripping him. Ardyn was using him – to get Noct to where he wanted him. Prompto understood what it made him; the guy was practically rubbing it into his face.

"Isn't it? Then what's this, a hunting trophy?" Ardyn smiled almost warmly as he gestured towards the bound blond.

Prompto's breath hitched. He wanted to snap something witty, but couldn't. The words weren't there.

"Hit a little nerve there, did I now?"

'Just let it go, boy. Just let it go.' Ardyn was just riling him up. There was no way the gunslinger would offer that bastard the delight… to see how magnificently it was working.

He couldn't help it. His heart broke a little at each recollection of being shoved backwards, teetering at the edge, falling off. For a second, he had seen the horrified realization on Noct's face. He had finally seen it then, Noct had understood. That it had all been Ardyn's doing. But it was too late.

When it had mattered, Noct hadn't known him. He knew he shouldn't harbor such thoughts but he couldn't help the hurt in his heart. Prompto had never felt so betrayed in his life.

And it all had played into Ardyn's hands. Probably just like the asshole had planned it would, the blond thought bitterly. 'And to think we were almost starting to trust him!' A bit embarrassed, Prompto realized that Ardyn could probably read each and every emotion from his face, and turned to hide his face. The last thing he needed was the Chancellor to catch the moisture that had gathered behind his eyes.

Prompto almost felt rather than heard the chuckle reverberating in the walls. "I'm afraid I must bid you adieu now, my friend. My best regards to Prince Noctis when he gets here." With an airy wave of his hand, Ardyn made for the door but was halted by a rage-strained voice,

"Yeah, good riddance!"

Amused by his resilience, the Chancellor chose to strike one more time. "I advice to make yourself comfortable. Welcome home, Prompto Besithia."

Despite the smooth sliding of the cell door, Chancellor Ardyn Izunia heard behind him a desperate, hurt gasp.

"Wait-! What are you going to do to me?!"

"Hey!"

"Hey!"

No answer. But Prompto heard the echoes of a furthering humming until the Chancellor turned the corner to disappear into the maze of concrete.

* * *

'That prick! How dare he…?!' Prompto was fuming as he struggled in the unrelenting bindings, only to still as one particularly strong jerk sent pain flashing across his side again. "Shit! Au, au, au, au!"

Forcing his muscles to relax, Prompto surrendered himself to hang from the bindings. It was uncomfortable, too, that Ardyn bastard had made sure of that, but struggling was ridiculously futile. He only ended up hurting himself. He sighed sadly. 'I've really gone and done it this time, haven't I?'

How could he have been so stupid as to let himself get caught?! Now he was being used to lure Noct into a trap! Prompto felt so humiliated, so defeated. He was a Crownsguard. He was supposed to protect the prince, at the cost of his own life if it came to that. And here he was. A bait. One that Noct would undoubtedly swallow whole. Job well done there, buddy.

Prompto wondered how the others were doing. Had they reached Tenebrae? Had they torn each other's eyes out yet? Things had gotten a bit better since Ignis' outburst, but they were all still pretty tense. Noctis never said it, but of course Prompto could see it. Noct blamed himself – for everything. For Lady Lunafreya. For Ignis. But it's not like any of it had been his fault! If he didn't get his head out of his ass – like Gladio had put it – he would never find the resolve to end this. Noct was the everything. Prompto knew he could do it! He just… needed to find his fight again.

'Or…'

He took a lazy look around the cell, his eyes trailing towards his wrist where his greatest insecurity hid under the wristband's protection. 'Or this is what the future's going to be.'

Prompto feared to think what the menace with an agenda had planned for them. Of course, Prompto had a hunch what was to become of him. It was either daemon fodder, or – he gulped – that which he was always supposed to be. But what about others out there? Would the Imperial army cease the entire world, and what after that? Would Izunia be satisfied even with that? Prompto merely shook his head. No. No, he wouldn't.

Noctis was the only one with the power to stop it. And if he fell into Ardyn's trap now, it could mean the end. A lump rose to his throat. Maybe… maybe it would be the best if they sacrificed him? Left Prompto to his fate and pushed on without him. Noctis needed the Crystal, it was everything, it was the future. A Crownsguard's life – Prompto tried his best to force back a sob – would be a small price to pay. He was sure at least Ignis could reason with that thought. And if that thought had occurred to someone like Prompto, it surely had occurred to Ignis. Prompto pondered in fear if they'd actually do that. Ignis, the chillying firestarter, he was cold enough to push the goal above the life of a comrade if necessary. He might not like that, but he would. Gladio… the big guy would have a hard time with that but the scarface was all for following orders.

But Noct… Noct wouldn't do that to him. Would he?

"Noct… you will come for me, right?"

* * *

"You don't look so good."

"Tch. Sucky thing, buddy. For a five-starer, this room's surely lacking big on the complimentary beauty products." Prompto shifted a little to ease the weight on his aching shoulder. "Love the bed, though," he snorted.

Ardyn flashed a smile. "Amusing. I see why he seems to be so fond of you."

"Huh?!"

A small chuckle. "All mouth and no brain…

Prompto resulted to shooting him a hot glare. The bastard. He struggled in his restraints again, only to wince as a new pain tore across his side. "Ah!"

The Chancellor seemed pleased as he eyed his captive. The blond hair stuck to the sweat-sheened face, dark bags hung under his eyes which had lost their cheerful glint. His cheek and collar bones stood out more clearly. Chest rose and fell rapidly along the young's shallow breaths. The boy trembled a little from the pain. Soon he was to tremble in fear, too.

Prompto's breath hitched as his captor strode closer. He yelped as Ardyn, with no warning, grabbed his chin, sqeezing it painfully and forcing his chin up. He gulped, lip quivering.

"Humph! What is it about you, I wonder. What does he see in you, to value something so worthless as you?" The fingers dug deeper into the sensitive flesh, and Prompto gasped loudly in pain. That was going to smart in the morning. He could feel the bruising starting.

"L-like hell y-you would ever un-understand!" Prompto forced out.

"Oh? Intriguing. Pray tell, what else do you think you know about me?" Ardyn near chuckled but he actually loosened his grip to allow him to speak.

Prompto wiggled his abused cheeks, glaring at the Chancellor questioningly. "Y-you're out to kill Noct."

The amused face Ardyn made neither confirmned nor denied the accusations. Instead, he brought a hand over his heart, feigning shock. "Ah! How could you even suggest something as horrible as that? Kill His Highness? Frankly, I'm hurt!"

Prompto snorted. "What did you do to him? What are you gonna do to me?!"

"Beg your pardon?" A degree of malevolence darkened the amused tone.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about! What did you do to him on that train?! There's no way Noct would ever–augh!"

Prompto's head snapped to the side, burning sensation scorching his cheek. Ardyn's arm dropped back to his side. The gunslinger's world spun as his head slumped into his chest. Panting heatedly, the poor captive didn't dare to move. Fearing what was to come next, Prompto waited, every muscle tense in anticipation.

"He… knew it was you, you know. At the end. As I fell. He knew it was you."

Ardyn snorted. "Obviously."

"Eh?"

"Just try and use that miraculous brain of yours. How else could he come for you?"

"He… he knows it's a trap."

"I would think that to be obvious, too. Truly, how did someone like you ever manage to familiarize yourself with him? You are beneath him."

Prompto felt like he had been punched again. Despite everything, despite all that they had shared… it hurt. It was more than the physical pain, it hurt him in his core. Because it was true. He was a nobody. He was a loser and a fraud. And grateful as he was of his friends, he didn't deserve them.

Who was he to be Noct's friend? He wasn't smart, and he wasn't strong. He was pretty much useless when it came to anything physical and the others would have to cover for him.

But…

He had seen Noct as he truly was. Whereas others saw only the front, the prince of Lucis, Prompto had seen _him_. His persona. He recalled the lonely young boy who almost always avoided company and snuck out to spend break times alone. Prompto had wondered why such a great person like prince Noctis spent his breaks alone. And that's when he had wanted to be his friend. Prompto hadn't wanted to treat him as a royal. He had wanted to treat him as a friend. As an equal. That's why he had never used the fancy your highnesses or fawned around him. Prompto hadn't cared about any of that. He had cared about Noct.

That thought gave him the courage he needed. Grinding his head up, Prompto looked his captor in the eye as he grinned a little and said,

"Hey, Adryn… It's OK, man. Nothing wrong with being jealous."

The strike came fast and swift, leaving him seeing stars as the pain exploded. The room spun, darkness blurring in and out. When he finally managed to focus his eyes again, Ardyn Izunia was gone.

* * *

A guard – or so Prompto presumed, although there was something odd about these magitek units – came in once per day to bring him water and a piece of bread. He was let down of the frame for long enough to eat and go if he needed. Much as he had valued his ideal of a resistant hostage, Prompto learned the first time that putting up a fight with no means to win was a wasted effort. His limbs were numb, and as soon as the bindings disappeared he practically slumped against the foul robot. Which he got punished for. The thing roughed him up good – it kicked him into the stomach, and the resounding crack told Prompto for sure that if his rib wasn't cracked before, well, it bloody hell was now! – then dropped him next to the small meal like a bag of trash. Trying his best not to put pressure on his ribs, Prompto savored it, ate as slowly as he dared if only to gain some feel to his limbs again… and then it was back into the device again. The ache never quite subsided. It had become his constant, sometimes lesser, sometimes worse but always present. It kept him awake until he was so exhausted he practically fainted, then slept for a good few hours until the pain brought him back again.

How long had it been? He was losing his mind. What was going to happen to him? He didn't understand. He wasn't even being questioned! He would have understood the torture, the interrogations, the horror. But he didn't comprehend… this. It was like he was just waiting. For what? To die slow and painful? He felt like the trophy Ardyn had compared him to. He was no more than a plaything, and not even a very interesting one at that, apparently. Ardyn hadn't come back, but a few times Prompto had heard him through speakers.

Those times, it had been mere mockery – of Noct, mainly, but of himself, too. About a failed test subject who would serve no purpose neither as a man nor a machine. It had pierced him straight through, but he had fought it. Under pain of death would Prompto allow the bastard the pleasure to see his anguish.

But one time almost ripped him of hope. It was then that Ardyn came to see him the third time.

Regalia had been made scrap metal. It had been hit with a heavy round of missile fire at the edges of the Imperial capital. No-one had been found. Ardyn's face radiated such triumph when the words fell from that dangerously smooth tongue,

"No-one is coming for you, little tool."

"Y-you're lying!" Prompto spat back, although he hated the quivering of his voice.

Ardyn smirked and sunk his hand into the folds of his coat. Out he brought something solid. Something that Prompto would have recognized anywhere. Regalia's blackened crest.

That, more than anything, crushed Prompto, what little hope he had left. The lump threatened to strangle him as he tried to swallow back his tears. Regalia? Bombarded? Wha- what had happened to them? What if they had been–? Unable to finish it, Prompto fought the rising panic. Ardyn tossed the metal piece at the captive's feet; the metallic chink against concrete sounded like it had been his doomsday bell.

Ardyn snorted in sick amusement, then started circling the fragile young man like a predator closes in on its prey. "Does that assure you?" Prompto's answer was a strangeled sob. "This was collected from the wreckage. The car itself had crashed against a railing."

"S-shut up!" Prompto spat at him, moist eyes glaring daggers.

Ardyn paid no heed. He stepped behind him, out of Prompto's vision. Suddenly, there was a strong hold in the back of the gunslingers slender neck, and his instincts flared. Ardyn held him in a deathgrip, and Prompto's breath hitched as he tensed.

The voice, smooth and caring, whispered close enough to send shivers down the gunner's spine,

"Your precious prince is dead, little tool."

The blue eyes widened, a fresh tear streaked down his cheek. "Noct..." Then he seemed to regain some of his resolve, as the gunslinger sniffled and,

"He.. he can warp, you know. H-he would have w-warped out of there. Before the crash..."

The sheer proximity of the chuckle made him shiver. Ardyn let go of him and strode back to face him in two long leaps. "What about the others then, huh? The big guy and the blind bookworm? What about them?" he practically purred as he took in everything.

And what a show it was. Prompto's eyes widened, his pupils dilated at the mental image of his friends' tragic fate. His lip quivered and another streak of tears slid down. But his eyes! In those eyes Ardyn saw what Prompto had so carefully tried to guard. His grief, his anguish. His hate, his fear, his betrayal. But especially he saw helplessness, and that made the young man look so beautiful. Beautiful and fragile. Defeated.

With a quite chuckle, Ardyn ruffled Prompto's hair in a seemingly caring way before he strode to leave the small cell. At the gate, however, he turned to give another glance at his captive,

"Take a good look at these walls, boy, because this is where you're going to die. Rot away all alone, unremembered and unloved. After all, who could ever love their enemy?"

The young man heard the words, but they seemed to come from somewhere far away. Prompto had his eyes glued onto the crest on the floor, but he wasn't seeing anything. Hanging limply from the bindings, he almost looked dead if it wasn't for the shallow rising and falling of his chest. Ardyn was about to leave but was stopped dead on his tracks at a sound between an utterance and a whisper,

"So kill me too, then." The Chancellor actually blinked, then turned to look at him properly. "Do it. You… you've taken everything from me now. My freedom. M-my purpose. Just… just finish it and take my life as well."

The chuckle was soft but Prompto heard it still. "Well see about that, tool." The captor left the gunner staring at the charred crest. As his steps furthered, Prompto was left with no sound but his own shaky sobs.

He couldn't fathom this. Regalia, down. His friends, gone. He himself, lost. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. The-they were supposed to be celebrating Noct and Lady Luna's wedding! Not this. Any of this. He could not stop the mental images of Regalia going up in flames, smashed beyond salvation. And them? Had they suffered? Had anyone survived? And what was to become of him now? Would they execute him? Or was he to starve in this rathole like Ardyn had promised? Grief overwhelmed him, poured out in quiet, soft sobs. And despite the suffocating grief, there was something nagging him. An instinct that said he was missing something. Something important. It was something that Ardyn had said…

A faint hope rippled into life.

It was but a gut feeling but Ardyn had perhaps said more than he had said. No-one had been found. So no corpses, either. It was but a glimmer, but Prompto clang onto that one glimmer for dear life. He screamed at himself it wasn't over! His friends were still out there! They were out there, somewhere, and it was high time the gunslinger started to believe in them again. Undeserving of their company he might have been, they were not going to abandon him to rot away in this hell! They were out there, and they were coming to rescue him!

Him. A pretender. An Imperial tool. That dimmed the glimmer he harbored so dearly. Much as he wanted to see his friends again and get out of this cell, it froze him to think what they were about to discover. The truth behind magitek. The truth behind Prompto. That all his life, Prompto had deceived them. Weaved a web of lies so lavish he had caught into it himself. What would they think of him then? What would they see when they looked at him? Prompto, the goofy photographer with a knack for guns and zero for ladies? Prompto, their friend and companion? Or Prompto, an Imperial factor and a traitor to the Crown of Lucis? Gladio wouldn't take kindly to traitors. And Ignis… Prompto could imagine the loathe and despise in Ignis' eyes – if he had still had them. That soul-scorching inferno; Iggy sure lived up to his name in character. They would never forgive him. Would quite possibly kill him on the spot, Prompto thought with a shudder. But, he figured, if he had to die like this, at least he would rather it be by the hand of a friend. At least it would be quick.

And Noct… He didn't have the heart to think about his best friend. Friend, huh? How could he even use that word? All his life, he had spewd nothing but lies all around him; how could he possibly call the prince his friend after all that? Once Noct learned what he was, a lie, could he ever accept him again?

'I'm not an enemy!' Prompto assured himself firmly. Sure, a Niff might have inseminated him, but the Empire sure as hell didn't own him, never had! He was raised Lucian, brought up as a royal guardian. He had devoted himself to the Lucian throne, and… befriended the prince. Noct. His name was Noct. His friend. And his friend Noct must have been worried sick about him. He meant something to him.

Didn't he?

The memory of being shoved off the train resurfaced again, and Prompto tensed as bitter bertryal tore his heart again. How did it happen?! He had had that bastard Ardyn at gunpoint – and then it all fell apart. A bitter lump rose to his throat as he remembered how Noct had been mere inches from slicing his hand off as he struck the gun away, then the brush of air on his face as the blade missed him again but barely. Then the edge…

For a second, he had thought he would die. That Noct would actually kill him. And, in some ways, he just might have.

* * *

He had long since lost his idea of time, but Prompto begun to think that the guard was really taking his time. It seemed ridiculously long since anyone had come to him, and he was getting more agitated by the hour. Was this it now? Had Ardyn finally left him to starve?

"Hey!" he tried, and his breath hitched a little at the weakness of his own voice. Strained, small and so unlike Prompto.

"Hey! Anyone there?"

There was no sound other than the echo of his own voice, until that, too, died down. Panic threatened to rise in him.

Then he heard the faintest thuds of steps, they were definitely getting closer, and his heart leaped! Those didn't sound like the heavy arms the magitek troopers wore. So it was either that jolly-good fella Ardyn, or Noctis had made it! His eyes shone as excitement riled him up again. His heart thumped as he waited to see who it was. Ardyn. Or his friends.

'Oh, please be Noct, please be Noct, please ne Noct...'

Nothing could have prepared him for what turned the corner to approach him. Even from afar he could tell it was neither Ardyn nor Noct. Approaching in long, casual strides, hands resting lazily in the back of his head was Prompto Argentum, dressed in his usual custom-made Crownsguard attire and a small grin on his lips.

His heart plundged. "The hell?!" The clone leaned long against the cell bars, the grin spreading to show teeth, eyes fixed on Prompto as if it was seeing something tasty.

"Magnificient, isn't it?" Ardyn's mechanical voice near slithered. "Congratulations, Prompto. It would seem your precious friends are alive and well after all."

"What the hell is this, gramps?!"

"My, you truly are the dull end of the pencil if there ever was one, aren't you? As you can see, he is you. Or more specifically what others perceive when they see Prompto Argentum." Ardyn sounded amused.

"Oh, that's bullshit, man."

"That indeed it is. I'm afraid, though, that a human mind is bound to believe what it sees, and thus such bullshit is what brought you here in the first place. Did you never wonder what your dear friend saw on that train?"

"Ah?!"

"Exactly."

Prompto was speechless staring at that… fake. On instinct his eyes travelled to where it should have been barely visible– sweet Tidemother, it even had THAT! It was morbidly fascinating, and downright unsettling.

"Shall we see what your prince thinks about my little creation?" The clone smirked at Prompto, and it turned slowly, as if reluctantly, to leave again.

"No! No, wait!" Prompto struggled fiercely in his bindings. "Let me go! Ardyn!"

"Fear not. It seems your dear prince will be with you shortly. Shame, magitek units are unable to produce genuine speech, so the illusion will not last. But allow me to bet on it that it will be enough."

"No! Don't–! Let me go! Noct! Noct!"

He heard Ardyn chuckle into the microphone as the clone strode away. Prompto fought the bindings with everything he had, but they didn't budge. Spent yet frustrated, he stilled to hang from them again with an all-consuming fear in his heart.

He should have been happy – Ardyn had practically announced his coming rescue – but he wasn't. He was terrified. His friends were somewhere in those endless aisles of concrete and clutter, and a part of him wanted them to get the hell out of there and never look back. Whatever Ardyn had in store for them, Prompto didn't want to find out. He didn't want to be a part of it.

But there was also hope. Hope that ignited to shine above all his doubt. Noct had come for him! He was risking his life to save him. His, and Iggy and Gladio's, too. How could he doubt them after that?

'Noct,' he sent a silent prayer, 'be safe! Please see through it, that's not me! Please be safe. Help me.'

"Noct! Noooooct!" A harsh cough silenced him as his world spun. Dammit, he was so weak! Damn that Ardyn and his tricks! Begrudgingly he surrendered to ease his breathing, and waited.

* * *

After what had to have been hours, the heated clashing of metal against metal, the rumble of magick and battle roars echoed in the hallways. Prompto didn't dare to breathe as he listened to the distant sounds of battle. His heart had skipped a beat when he thought he had recognized Gladio's voice, but it was too far to know for sure. He listened, terrified and on the edge, for any cries, any sounds of a rusty blade digging into flesh. For any clues.

The battle seemed to move closer, then escalated. Now the sounds were more frequent, more intense. He could make out the engine acceleration of Noct's blade as it dug into something solid. Prompto's breath hitched as he heard a roar unlike any sound he had ever heard before. It wasn't human, but it didn't sound like a magitek, either. It sounded like a wild beast but – unnatural. Demonic. The sheer sound of it had the hairs in his nack stand as a shudder after shudder ran along his spine.

Just what the hell were they fighting over there?! Prompto struggled fiercely – no way he could just rot away locked up like this when his friends were out there, fighting for their lives! A frustrated cry escaped him as the bindings didn't budge. "Dammit! Noct–!"

He was cut short as he heard the whizz as a heavy weight sliced through the air, then the sickening crushing sound as flesh was torn and bone splintered under it. The blood-curdling scream of agony bellowed in the walls. It had been a killing blow.

Prompto gagged at the wet rattles he could make out under the blades' clashing. What the hell was going on?! There was more screaming sounds, this time recognizably magitek, and less and less sword fighting. With a final thump, the sounds quieted down for good.

The gunner's breaths were shallow and silent. He tried his best to try and make out the faint sound of steps. But wait a minute, where were they going?!

The steps were moving away from him.

'Wait!' he thought as panic welled in him. 'Wait, don't go! Don't leave me here!' They had come so close. So close! 'Don't leave me here!'

"Noct! Noct, in here!" he tried to yell, but it was weak and hardly loud enough. "In here!"

Prompto didn't dare to breathe. The steps were moving somewhere far away, barely audible. Had they heard him? What if the hadn't? What if they decided to turn away now? No, no, no, not now. Not when they had come so close. Not when Prompto had started to believe again.

The echo was there, it was going around, as if… in search for something? The gunner's breath hitched. He tried to yell again but it almost died onto his lips. He was too exhausted, too drained. And then he heard the clanking of a grate.

It had been close. Now he heard the mutter – Gladio, no mistaking that underearthly voice! – heard the concerned calls of his name…

Prompto might have cried for real. At least he felt like it as the steps turned the corner and the familiar appearances of his friends stood still in shock as they took in everything. And as the steps sprinted, the gunner sobbed a small relief. Thank the heavens, it was over. It was over! Too spent to raise his head again, he took in the approaching stomping, the breathless calls of his name as the cell door slid open and Noct was at his side.


End file.
